


A Sourwolf's Birthday

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Derek, Birthday, Derek Has Feelings, Derek Has Issues, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Angst, Pining, Stiles Loves Derek, Stiles Takes Care Of Derek, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles realizes it is Derek's birthday and surprises him, in more ways than one.</p><p>Just a little fluff from a prompt I received.</p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p><p>-Stiles Kolpath</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sourwolf's Birthday

Derek got home from the grocery store, bag clutched in his hand, and pulled open the loft door. He knew that it was a long shot, but he kind of hoped his pack would be there waiting for him.  
And you know, jump out from behind things and yell surprise or something. It was a stupid idea. He shook his head, hoping to erase the embarrassment of thinking about it from his mind, like some sort of bizarre, lycanthropic etch-a-sketch. He dropped his keys into the bowl by the door.

Whatever, he was allowed to have delusional fantasies like that, especially today, because it was his birthday. He closed the door of the loft and made his way to the kitchen to put away his groceries. Vegetables in the crisper, bread on the counter, milk and eggs on the top shelf, chicken breasts into the freezer. Once he was done, he folded up the paper bag and stuffed it alongside the others under the sink. They typically came in handy for other things. The kitchen was clean, and everything was put away, well, except for one little box.  
Derek looked at it. It was from a small sweet shop in town. His favorite, actually. He made a special trip today after he finished grocery-shopping. He did the same thing every year for the past seven years. It was the only way he celebrated his birthday. He picked up the box and found the solitary white candle he used each year, as well as a box of matches. Sitting down at the table, he unfolded the box into a makeshift plate, and looked at the frosting-covered chocolate cupcake. He sighed quietly as he stuck the candle in the top of it, and pulled out a match.

He struck the match and lit the candle, the wick catching fire quickly. He flicked the match out and set the box down. Watching the dancing flame. He didn’t want to think about the way his birthdays had been before, with his parents and his sisters singing, with Cora wanting to blow out the candles more than he did, and Laura putting him in a headlock for ‘birthday-boy-noogies,’ as she called them. He acted like hated it, but he secretly loved it more than anything. They would crowd around the kitchen table in the old house, and his mom would always tell him to make a wish. The thought of her brought a smile to his face.

Make a wish, Derek…

He heard her voice as he inhaled deeply, preparing to extinguish the little flame on the candle. He made his wish silently to himself. Why, he never really knew. No one was ever around to hear it. The candle flame seemed to know what was coming, and the flame tried to retreat from the exhale that would surely kill it.  
That was when Derek heard the keys jingling in the loft door. He stayed his breath. Then something happened that he did not expect.  
Stiles Stilinski walked through the door. Derek didn’t have anywhere to hide the cupcake. He kind of froze, actually. Like he was rooted to the spot. The first thing Stiles saw was Derek sitting there at the table, silhouetted in front of the big bank of grimy windows that served to light the entire loft, with a small cupcake in front of him sporting the world’s most depressing candle.  
Stiles’ greeting committed suicide on his lips as he comprehended the scene. “Yo, Dere—…”

Derek got up, quickly blew out the candle, and shoved the cupcake on the counter out of sight. He attempted to feign nonchalance. He had a hunch it wasn’t working. So he crossed his arms and scowled. “What do you want, Stiles?”

Stiles stuttered. Derek didn’t think he really had a reason to be here, the sheriff was probably working, and he was probably lonely. It was a Saturday night, so Scott and Allison were probably out, Lydia and Isaac were probably dragged along, and Stiles was left to his own devices. Derek knew he would be the last choice for the human. “I uh, well I just came over too… yeah. Hang out?” Stiles was staring intently at the ground, hands in his pockets, and shoulders shrugged. The sight made Derek’s stomach do a funny little clench and twist. “Did I interrupt someth—?”

“—No.” Derek’s answer was too quick. “It was nothing.” Derek moved to put the cupcake into the fridge quickly. The candle had extinguished itself when Derek aggressively hid it on the counter, out of sight of the entrance.

“You sure?” Stiles persisted. His eyebrows were raised, and he looked genuinely concerned.

Derek sighed into the fridge. “Yeah.” He walked back over to the table and pushed in his chair. He looked at Stiles expectantly. Expecting him to leave. Mostly because Derek was full-on scowling, and because he really wanted to finish his cupcake.

Stiles seemed to ignore the hint. Instead he shifted gears. “So, there is this new burger joint down the street that literally has the best bacon cheeseburgers in town. You been?”  
“Is that the on they just finished building like a month ago? That BeaconBurger place?”

“Yeah.”

“No.” Derek answered flatly.

“WHAT? How have you not been there? It is literally on the way from everything in this town to your place. Seriously dude, you need to live a little. C’mon.” Stiles grabbed Derek’s keys from the bowl and turned towards the half-open loft door. Derek’s eyebrows were raised in sarcastic surprise.

“Where are you going?” Derek didn’t like anyone holding his keys but him.

“I’m not going anywhere. We are going to get burgers from BecaonBurger.” Stiles sensed Derek’s refusal. He continued. “Or, I am going to take these keys and go down to the Camaro and lick my initials onto the inside of your windshield.” Ugh, that would be a bitch to clean, Derek thought.

“Fine.” Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles tossed him the keys and stepped outside the door, beckoning Derek hurriedly to get his ass out there so they could go. Stiles was nothing if not totally impatient when it came to the prospect of food. Derek made for the door, and once he was on the other side, he locked it, because apparently he had forgotten to earlier. You know, before Stiles showed up.

They drove to the burger joint in silence. Well, Derek’s silence. Stiles felt the need to fill every second with discoursing emphatically about any inane or useless topic that popped into his mind. Once they got there, Stiles gleefully bounded out of the passenger seat, and Derek fought to keep down a smirk. He would not be happy about missing his traditional cupcake for some greasy burger joint Stiles suggested. He followed the human into the diner, where Stiles had already picked up a menu from the waiter’s stand and his eyes were darting from item to item. Derek could almost hear Stiles’ stomach growling as he read the descriptions of each item. In fact, he did a few times. And he didn’t need werewolf hearing for that.

They sat down in a booth near the back of the restaurant. Derek continued to look at the menu, not really craving anything on it. Stiles chattered on about each burger he wanted. Derek guessed he could probably eat three or four in one sitting, despite his lean frame. Derek snapped out of it when Stiles asked him a question.

“So what are you thinking about getting?” The human was leaning on the table, weight canted forward at the elbows, trying to look over Derek’s menu at his face. He looked ridiculous.

“I, uh, no idea... The Breckenridge looks good.” Stiles made a slight groan. Derek could tell he was going to launch into some kind of burger-related soliloquy. He was not surprised.

“Oh my god, it is! It has two pieces of applewood-smoked bacon, not one, two and these freakin’ amazing fried onion straws on top of it with this like, vanilla glaze or sauce of some kind drizzled over top of it and they even stick a toasted marshmallow through the toothpick in the top of it. It. Is. The. Best.” Stiles punctuated every word in the last sentence with a slap on the table. Derek was still trying to figure out when this dude actually breathed while he talked.

The waitress chose that moment to come over to take their drink order. Stiles ordered a coke, and Derek a water. He was not about to make this meal any unhealthier than it already was. They ordered their burgers too; Stiles got the Texas Peacemaker, a half-pound contraption containing bacon, a fried egg, and some kind of chipolte sauce, while Derek ordered his Breckenridge burger.

Once the waitress left, Stiles looked back at Derek, who again, tried to use his menu as a shield. All he had wanted was a quiet evening by himself. Well, the exact opposite, if he was being completely honest, because all he was going to do was eat his cupcake, sit in silence, and think about his family. And as wounds go, it was always more painful to reopen it the second, or you know, four-thousandth time.

He put it out of his mind. Stiles was apparently oblivious to the menu-shield, and was talking incessantly through it, probably not really caring about whether or not Derek was even listening. He was. That was why when Stiles pulled the menu down to the table, and asked him what he had been doing when he walked into the loft, Derek just deepened his usual scowl at him and muttered “nothing.”

“Uh, I highly doubt that.”

“Whatever. Let it go.”

“Is today your—?”

“I said let it go, Stiles.” Derek averted his eyes back to his menu, but he didn’t put it back up as a shield. Stiles continued to stare, a knowing look slowing coming to his face. Derek didn’t see it. He was too busy willing Stiles to shut the hell up.

In a rare fit of self-control, Stiles changed the subject. “So, uh, did you see the new Superman movie?” Derek rolled his eyes.  
“Yeah. It was good.” He wasn’t going to venture more than that.

“Good? Good?! It was just ‘good’ to you? Were you watching the same movie that I was?”

Derek sighed, exasperated. “Yes, Stiles.”

Stiles looked indignant. “Ok, so what about that movie made it just ‘good’ for you?” He threw air quotes up derisively.

So Derek was interested in making this conversation disappear as quickly as possible, so he launched into a tirade about how they could have done a much better job of making the plotline flow, how the amount of damage the Kryptonians caused to Earth would have impossible to rebuild, and how an internet blogger releasing a story about an alien got onto national television. Stiles sat there, enraptured at the sight of Derek, normally not loquacious, emphatically talking about a movie. He offered points occasionally, and tried to refute Derek’s too-logical reasoning behind his thoughts on the movie. Then they moved from talking about that to superhero movies in general, and then on to sci-fi. And the conversation continued like this until the waitress came back carrying two large plates, piled high with burgers and fries. They were debating whether or not the first or second Star Trek movies was better than the other, based on the scientific anachronisms in each.

“… There is no way a star exploding could threaten to destroy an entire galaxy.” Derek keened. Stiles would just not listen to reason.

“If it was a big star, it could.”

“Ok, genius, then in what universe would creating a massive black hole actually help the system being threatened by the star’s explosion?” Stiles didn’t answer right away.

“Duh, it would suck up the star before it could explode.”

“Ugh, it would suck up everything. The star, the planets nearby, everything, until there was nothing left. They should have evacuated Romulus. Would have saved more people.” Derek just noticed the waitress, who was standing by the table waiting for them to finish gesturing and talking to set the plates down.

She eyed the two of them warily, and popped her gum. “Which of you two nerds had the Peacemaker?”

Stiles raised his hand gleefully. “Right here.”

“Here ya go, hun.” The plate slid down in front of Stiles, burger open-faced and sizzling still. The smell was mouth-watering. “So that means that the Breckenridge is for you.”

“Yup, thanks.” She slid the plate down in front of Derek. If Stiles’ burger smelled good, his smelled a thousand times better. Derek could literally taste the vanilla glaze intermingling with the crunchy breading of the onion straws, and the salty, savory flavor of the meat. His salivary glands went into overdrive. He didn’t even know where to start with eating the thing. It was massive.

Stiles, on the other hand, had his monstrosity already in his hands, juices dripping down them, and was in the process of taking a huge bite. As he did, and struggled to chew, he looked at Derek, who hadn’t started eating yet. “Whud oo wahting foe?” He looked at Derek’s burger expectantly as he tried to speak through the huge bite he just took.

Derek shook his head and chuckled a little. Stiles was still staring at him, this time, his eyebrows moved upward as he motioned for Derek to eat.

Derek picked up the burger, glaze and juices already dripping down his hand, and took a bite. It was everything Stiles said it would be, and more. His eyes grew wide and found Stiles’ interrogatory stare. He nodded and groaned. Stiles finished chewing and laughed loudly.

“I knew you would like it.” Stiles continued to chuckle as Derek attacked the burger. He sank his teeth in, each bite better than the last. He could feel the juices dripping down his chin, but he didn’t care. It was the best burger he had ever tasted. Stiles was right. Derek might even actually admit it. Might. One thing was for sure, when it came to food, Derek was never going to not trust Stiles’ judgment again. But right now, the only real thought he had in his mind was burger.  
He and Stiles munched together in relative silence, punctuated by the occasional growl of approval from Derek or a moan from Stiles. Fortunately there weren’t many other patrons at the diner, but the few that were there eyed them suspiciously as a result. Neither cared.  
Once they finished, they munched on their fries, and absentmindedly returned to their previous movie discussion. They talked for awhile, until the waitress brought them their checks. Stiles quickly snapped up Derek’s before he could reach for it. Derek froze and eyed Stiles suspiciously.  
Stiles just shook his head. “I got this, don’t worry.” Derek was still puzzled.  
“Stiles, give me my check.”  
“No.”  
“Give it to me.”  
“Nope. Not a chance. You are not paying for your own dinner on your birthday.” Derek froze again. This time, the tightening in his stomach was added to the clenching of his heart. Stiles figured it out, and deliberately took him out of his empty apartment to be with him on his birthday. The thought made him extremely happy, and sad at the same time. He hadn’t shared a birthday with anyone since his family died.  
Then the waitress brought over a small piece of chocolate cake, complete with a lighted, solitary candle poking up from the middle of it.  
“Happy birthday, hon,” she said. Derek tried to glare at Stiles. it would not work. The human was pink with barely-contained glee, not even trying to hide the smile on his face. Derek looked at the cake, then back at Stiles, twice.  
“Oh, c’mon, Sourwolf, eat your damn cake, or I will.” Stiles picked up a fork, moving to slice a chunk of cake off before he stopped himself. Derek didn’t blow out the candle yet. Derek started to say something, but stopped himself. For some reason, Stiles doing all this, showing up at his door, taking him out to dinner, buying said dinner and surprise dessert, seemed too... insincere to Derek. Was Stiles making fun of him? The more Derek thought about it, the more it made sense. Normally the human seemed to tolerate him. For some reason, that thought alone made Derek’s chest tighten painfully. So, much to Stiles’ surprise, he violently pushed the pie in his direction, and started to get up from the table. “Wha-- where are you going?” Stiles was incredulous, his eyes searching Derek’s face for an answer.  
“I told you, leave me alone.” Derek stormed out of the restaurant, the little bell on the door jingling angrily as he pushed it open and headed for the Camaro. He unlocked it and got inside, placing his hands on the steering wheel. He was all set to put the key in and haul ass when he remembered that he was Stiles’ ride. Shit. Also, Stiles was standing in front of the car, arms crossed, face in a what-the-hell-are-you-doing type of expression. Derek winced, and stepped back out of the car, walking around to the front where Stiles stood, ironically silent, watching him with a bemused expression.  
“So, ya wanna tell me what that was all about?” Stiles’ tone wasn’t angry, but there was a slight edge to it. Derek noticed that his eyebrows were raised almost as if in surprise.  
“No,” Derek’s initial defense mechanism deployed, “but you will probably make me.” And failed. He was resigned. He realized that he was just a stupid, broken toy, sometimes. To his credit, Stiles didn’t say anything. Derek continued. “I thought,” boy this sounds stupid, “I thought you were making fun of me, or something.”  
“What? How?” Stiles’ naturally interrogatory expression was replaced by one of indignant curiosity.  
“I don’t know. All of this...” Derek gestured absentmindedly at the restaurant, and decided the best place for his eyes to be was the ground. He willed it to open up and swallow him whole. “It seemed so... fake. Like you had nothing better to do, so you came to test my patience, like usual, and you happened to pick one of the worst days of the year to do it.”  
“It seemed ‘fake?’ What the hell, man? Does that even make sense?” The question wasn’t directed at Derek, more like the universe in general.  
“No,” Derek admitted. He felt silly and angry, but mostly with himself.  
“You’re right. It doesn’t. Because if you paid attention at all,” Stiles’ tone had shifted to anger. He was yelling. “If you fucking noticed me at all, you would know that I wouldn’t fuck around with something like this.” Stiles’ face was twisted with anger, and Derek hated it. He felt like he was on fire with shame at the sight of it.  
Derek knew he was right, of course. Stiles’ mom had died, and so had his parents. They had both lost people. They were both constantly reminded of their emptiness on a daily basis. Surely someone who experienced a similar loss wouldn’t decide to mess with someone who was, for all intents and purposes, the same as them. This is what kept Derek firmly rooted to the spot when he would, if faced with any other person, angrily left by now. He willed himself to say something, anything, to wipe the angry look off of Stiles’ face.  
“I’m sorry.” It was all Derek could manage. Truth be told, he had been paying attention, for the past several years. He noticed everything about Stiles. For some reason, the dude had somehow branded himself on the back of Derek’s brain. He was always there in some small way, either with Derek recalling something that he did, or said, something he said, or fighting a chuckle back after one of Stiles’ trademark flails, or him fainting at the sight of anything squeamish. Derek also thought about how fierce the human was, especially at protecting the people he cared about. He thought Stiles would be a brilliant werewolf, and if he were the one to give him the gift, Derek could see him one day becoming an alpha simply because of that. More often than not, however, Derek thought about Stiles’ scent. It lingered on everything he touched, and on more than one occasion, Derek had found himself pressing a shirt, or a pillow into his face to drink deep the smell of Stiles embedded within it. Derek wanted to say all these things, but for some reason, he couldn’t. He sighed, closed his eyes, and bit down his fear. “I did notice you, Stiles. I couldn’t help it. Your smell... Y--, your everything. I just... I can’t.” Derek had one clear moment, but his mouth betrayed him again.  
Stiles advanced on the alpha, and put a hand on his arm. “If you noticed, why didn’t you ever do anything about it? God knows I wanted you to.”  
“Because I wasn’t sure,” Derek paused, “if it was for me.” He was talking about Stiles’ scent, how it always positively reeked of desire, of longing, whenever he was around Derek. Normally that wouldn’t be unusual for a teenager, but Stiles’ scent seemed to be tailored to Derek’s nose. It was enough to make him weak in the knees, even right now.  
“Of course it was for you. It always was.” There was no lie there. Derek risked a look at Stiles’ face. What he found was irresistable. “I just thought that there was no way you would ever feel the same way.” Now it was Stiles’ turn to stare at the ground and pick at the gravel with his shoes.  
Stiles continued. “You always seemed to barely tolerate me, not to mention the several occasions of physical violence that you perpetrated against me. I figured I was barking up the wrong tree. No offense.”  
Despite himself, Derek let out a laugh, and shut it down as quickly as it came. “Clever. I probably acted that way because I didn’t understand, or I didn’t want to. There were, and still are, a lot of things that I don’t see coming before they are right in front of me.”  
Stiles chuckled. “Like that burger?” Derek was a little disappointed. Not in the burger, but in what Stiles didn’t do just then, at that perfect moment.  
“Yeah, exactly like that,” Derek embelished, rolling his eyes. Do you want to go in and finish that cake?” And as if right on cue, their waitress came bounding across the parking lot to them waving a bag emblazoned with BeaconBurger’s logo.  
“Y’all forgot your cake!” She yelled as she trotted towards them. She handed it off to Stiles, who thanked her. Derek looked sheepish, unwilling to meet her eyes after he stormed away from the table earlier.  
Stiles gestured at the car with the cake-bag. “Want to get out of here.” It was a statement. Derek quickly obliged. They got in and drove back to Derek’s loft in the dark. Derek was quiet, and Stiles went back to uneasily trying to defend the fact that this whole evening was not an attempt to humiliate the werewolf. Derek didn’t remember much of it, because at one point, his hand was on the gear shifter, and stiles laid his across it to make a point. Derek spent the rest of the ride trying to find a feasible way to drive with his head out the window. Fortunately it was a short drive.  
Once outside the loft, Stiles stopped, and grabbed Derek by his arm. Derek allowed the human to turn him around to face him. He propped himself up slightly, and placed a kiss on Derek’s lips. It was just enough to make Derek hum contentedly, sliding his eyes shut briefly to enjoy the feeling. Then Stiles promptly ruined the moment.  
“So you didn’t see that one coming, then?” Stiles playfully questioned, referencing what Derek said earlier.  
“Nope, saw it miles off, actually.” Derek lied. Stiles sort of looked stunned at the fact that the brooding alpha could actually make a joke. He snapped out of it when Derek kissed him a second time. This kiss was decidedly less...gentle. It was a desperate attempt of a werewolf to taste the human he probably loved without actually drawing blood. It was a long, wet kiss that ended with Stiles pressed heavily against Derek, arms wrapped around him, with his hands under the hem of Derek’s shirt...yet still holding the bag of cake.  
“Now that I did not see coming.” Stiles admitted it quietly, as Derek turned around to unlock the door to the loft. Stiles grabbed the alpha’s hand, intertwining his fingers between Derek’s. He gave a gentle squeeze as they walked in.  
“So are we going to talk about the epicness that was that burger?” Stiles seemed genuinely concerned.  
Derek played along. “Yeah, remind me to never doubt you again when it comes to food. It was spectacular.” Derek’s mouth started to water. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the memory of the burger, or Stiles’ mouth on his own.  
“Speaking of which...” Stiles tried to push Derek down onto the couch. “Sit. Stay.” Derek scowled, refusing to budge as Stiles pushed against him. Finally Derek relented when Stiles made some kind of weak groan at the effort. It was terribly adorable. He sat.  
“Good boy.” Stiles made it worse. “Now close your eyes.” Derek deepened his scowl at Stiles. “I’m serious.” Stiles laugh-plead. Derek finally obliged, one eye at a time. He heard Stiles make his way into the kitchen and begin mussing with the bag from the restaurant. After a few minutes, and several impatient growls from Derek, he returned. Derek heard his footsteps stop directly in front of the coffee table. “Okay, open ‘em.”  
Stiles was standing there, looking ridiculous in a paper party hat (where he got that, Derek would never know), and holding the piece of chocolate cake from the restaurant on one plate, and Derek’s cupcake on another. Each had a solitary lighted candle in the center, flames dancing about as he stood there.  
“Surprise!” Derek’s heart jumped out of his chest. He would later admit to tearing up a bit, but never to Stiles directly.  
Stiles set down the cakes and procured napkins and forks from his back pockets, returning to the kitchen to pick up two glasses of milk. Derek kind of looked stunned. He hadn’t even remotely celebrated this day in almost ten years. And here he was, actually with someone who cared enough to make him celebrate it. Stiles sat down across the table, and looked at the stupefied werewolf.  
“Well you gonna eat it, or not?” Stiles motioned to the cupcake. “Because if you storm off again, I can guarantee neither of their safety.” Derek reached across the table quickly and grabbed Stiles by the shirt, kissing him greedily. It was meant to convey every emotion he felt this evening that he couldn’t put into words. It was meant to show Stiles exactly what he meant to Derek, to describe, if at all possible, how powerless the alpha was to resist the human.  
After he pulled back, and looked into Stiles’ eyes, he really hoped it worked. “Happy birthday, Sourwolf.” Stiles smiled.  
It did.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check out my tumblr here for more of my writing: http://watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com/


End file.
